Letters & Biographies

Bedwetter Mason Discovers Grandma’s Method – by Mason

April 17, 2018

I see people posting about how they developed their diaper fetish and I wanted to include my own. You see, I was a bedwetter for most of my childhood. My mom kept a plastic sheet on my bed and laid out an absorbent pad under my regular sheet for my accidents. Accidents that varied from once a week or every night for several weeks in a row.

When I was fourteen, my mom got sick and was in the hospital for several months and my grandmother came to stay with me until she got out. The first night she was there I wet the bed and she walked in while I was stripping the sheets to put in the wash. At first, she was supportive and told me it happens to everyone at some point. Then she noticed the plastic sheet and padding and realized it was a common theme. Her tone changed from supportive to just mean and told me it was ridiculous that a fourteen year old boy would be a bedwetter. That night there was no padding on my bed, but the plastic sheet was still there. She told me that I needed to stop being coddled or I would never stop pissing the bed. She told me to use the toilet before bed and wouldn’t let me drink anything after dinner. When she sent me to bed, she warned me that if I wet the bed again she was going to buy diapers.

Of course, I woke up wet the very next morning and she was more than disappointed. She called me a “baby bedwetter” and told me I needed to grow up, because my behavior was ridiculous. It hurt a lot, because my mother always told me that bedwetting was a common theme and I shouldn’t be concerned about it, because it would go away eventually. My grandmother, however, was adamant that I only wet the bed because I was too lazy to get up and use the toilet. Some of the comments she made were “Only cowards are afraid of the dark” and “The toilet isn’t going to swallow you.”

Bedwetter DIapered Under Clothes
Bedwetter DIapered Under Clothes

After school, I came home to find a box of Attends sitting on the counter in the dining room. I knew what they were from the picture on the front of the box. I pretended not to notice and hoped it was just a veiled threat. The rest of the day I avoided her as much as possible and drank as little as possible. I figured if I didn’t wet the bed that night, she wouldn’t make me wear them. My hopes were dashed at bedtime when she walked into my room with one of the diapers and told me to put it on. I flipped out and told here I wasn’t wearing “a fucking diaper” and tried to storm out of the room. I say tried, because she grabbed a handful of hair and dragged me back to the bed. With a little effort, she pulled me over her lap and she pulled off one of her house shoes and started beating me with it.

My mother had spanked me a few times in the past, but it was always a few swats with a wooden spatula to five strokes with the belt. Grandma blistered my ass for several minutes. It hurt so much, I was completely broken down and blubbering like a baby by the time she finished. I couldn’t even stand up after she finished, so she rolled me onto the bed and yanked off my pajama pants and underwear. I tried to cover my privates, but she ignored me and wrapped the diaper around my waist. I still remember what she said – “If you want to be a bedwetter, you can dress like one”. Once she had it taped up, she tossed my pants and underwear in the hamper and pulled the blanket over me. She didn’t say a word as she left the room.

The following morning, I realized I had wet again despite drinking nearly nothing the previous evening. The diaper soaked it all up easily though. I was about to get out of bed and remove the diaper, but grandma walked in before I had a chance. She asked if I was wet. I was tempted to lie, but didn’t want to risk another beating with her shoe, so I nodded my head silently and stared at the floor. She took me by the hand and half dragged me down the hall to the dining room. I felt ridiculous walking through the house in a diaper – a soaked one at that – but she was much stronger than me. When she stopped, we were standing in front of the box of Attends and I nearly fainted at the thought that she might be getting another diaper to change me into.

Instead, she handed me a pen and told me to mark an X on the wall calendar. She told me she was determined to have me “potty trained” by the time my mother returned, so if I could keep my diapers dry for one week I could stop wearing them. As an added incentive, she told me if I had more wet days then dry days in a given week, I would get another taste of her shoe. And if I was wet every day of the week, she would make me wear them all day on Sunday. The results were mixed. The first six weeks, I had more wet days than dry days four times. True to her word, I got a beating to remember every time.

The entire experience had an unintended side effect. By the time that first six weeks ended, I had actually become attached to the diapers. It started with a simple appreciation for not having to clean my sheets in the morning, but escalated quickly to a full fetish. I started fantasizing about wearing diapers during the day and being caught by my friends. Even the spankings started to turn me on. The actual spankings themselves were horrendously painful, but the endorphins I felt afterwards were amazing. On week six, I actually wet twice on purpose to make sure I would get a spanking.

Week seven I decided to try my luck at wetting every night. I wasn’t sure if she would actually make me wear a diaper during the day, because we went to church that day and she was very involved with all of their functions. However, always true to her word, when I woke up wet for the seventh day in a row, she made me mark the day on the the calendar and grabbed another diaper before heading back. We stopped at the bathroom first, where my wet diaper was removed and tossed into the trash, and a wet rag was used to wipe away the remaining pee. Then it was back to my room for a trip over her lap.

She seemed to spank me longer and harder than she had before, but it might have just been my nerves making me think so. As always, I was bawling and blubbering when she finished. When she finished, she rolled me onto my back and put the clean diaper on me. Most of me was ecstatic for the experience, but part of me was terrified of the potential embarrassment. As she stood up, she told me to go wash up and make myself a bowl of cereal while she got my church clothes ready. Wearing only a diaper and pajama shirt, I made my way through the house doing as I was told.

After I finished my breakfast, I went back to my room to find grandma waiting. My suit for special occassions was laid out on my bed, even though I normally wore school clothes to church. My mother never let me wear my suit unless it was something important, so I told grandma that I couldn’t wear it. She thought I was refusing and told me that I could wear the suit or go to church dressed the way I was. I decided against arguing about my mother’s rules and changed into the suit while she watched. While she was helping me with my tie, she told me if I needed to “go number one” I needed to use my diaper. If I needed to “go number two”, let her know and she would take me to the bathroom. She also warned me that if I lied about number two to avoid peeing in the diaper, she would pull my pants down in front of everyone and blister my butt for a second time.

On the ride to church, I was actually feeling particularly content. Being diapered under my clothes was an amazing feeling and I was getting a rather uncomfortable erection as the padding didn’t leave much room for expansion. Once we got to church, the full weight of my situation hit me. People at church liked to hug – a lot. If someone felt the diaper, would they tell everyone? It seems like a ridiculous worry these days, but my young self was distraught. The other problem was how quiet the church got right before the pastor came out. Grandma was very popular, so we were among the last to find our seats and I was certain everyone in the quiet hall could hear the crinkling of my diaper as I walked.

Despite my worries, church was mostly uneventful. We were there for the most of the day, as usual, and I had wet the diaper twice. I could feel how swollen it was and had to make a concerted effort not to walk funny as we left for home. When we got there, I realized the diaper had leaked around the leg band and there was a wet spot on my pants. Grandma was only a little upset that I didn’t tell her how wet I was, but I think she realized there weren’t any other options. She had not thought to bring another diaper, so I couldn’t be held responsible when I was just following her rules.

I took off the suit and met her in the bathroom. She took the diaper off and wiped me down, then told me to sit on the toilet and do a number two. It was really embarrassing to sit on the toilet while she watched and try to poop, but I had actually been holding it in for several hours so I wouldn’t have to deal with her taking me to the bathroom at church. After I did my business, she put me in another diaper and sent me to dining room table to finish my homework. The rest of the day was just me doing my homework in a diaper while she cooked dinner, then being sent to bed early after that. She didn’t bother to change me again before bed, even though I had peed just before dinner. The next morning, she threatened to keep me in diapers during the day until I woke up dry, but didn’t follow through. I remember very clearly being confused, because I had been sent to bed in a wet diaper and it would have been some trick to wake up dry. I wasn’t about to point out her mistake though.

I became a bit worried she would discover that I liked the diapers, so over the next two weeks I didn’t wet on purpose at all and only had two wet nights each week. However, my desires outpaced my fears and I went right back to wetting on purpose, earning a solid spanking on week ten. Of course, the endorphin rush from that beating convinced me to have another wet week, earning another full day in diapers. This time, she took two spare diapers and a box of wet naps with us. In addition to the previous rules, she told me to tell her if my diaper was in danger of leaking.

By the time the regular church service was finished, I had wet twice and was worried it might leak. There were a lot of people mingling, however, so I was too embarrassed to get her attention while people were around. After most of the people left, grandma and her friends met up in one of the halls to discuss fundraisers. I was the only person there under 50 years old. Still too scared to ask for a change, I just impatiently waited for them to finish. Then one of the older ladies in the group interruped the discussion to tell me I must’ve sat in something, because my pants were wet. Grandma knew right away and I could see the anger on her face as she excused herself from the group.

bedwetter in corner
Bedwetter in Corner

She dragged me down the hall to the bathroom and yanked down my pants – pulling them over my shoes. She ran water over the pee stain and then wrung them out and hung them on a hook. The soaked diaper was removed and tossed into the garbage. She pulled the wet naps from her purse and wiped me clean. She didn’t say a word the entire time, but still had that mixed look of anger and disappointment on her face. I had to lay on the floor as she taped on a clean diaper, but then she pulled out the second diaper and taped it over the first. All she said was “That oughtta take care of any leaks”.

When I stood up, I reached for my pants, but she grabbed them first. “They need to dry” was all she said as she took hold of my wrist and dragged me out of the bathroom without pants. I refused to move for a moment, but she just pulled harder and nearly dragged me down the hall. All of the women in the group stared at me in silence as grandma pulled me to the corner and told me to keep my nose in the corner until her meeting was finished. She explained to them that I was a bedwetter and this was my punishment as their meeting continued and they all seemed to think it was a fitting punishment. Their meeting must’ve gone on for a couple hours. At that point, she gave me back my air dried pants and we headed home. At bedtime, she cleaned me up, removing the wet inner diaper and making me sit on the toilet to move my bowels. For bed, she reused the outer diaper.

After that, I was too afraid of being seen diapered in public again, so I stopped wetting on purpose. Without trying, I still managed to wet more often than not, so the spankings came nearly every Sunday. Then, on week nineteen, I woke up wet the entire week naturally. It wasn’t as bad as the last time, but it was still quite humiliating. Grandma had another of her meetings, so when all the ladies had gathered, she made a show of checking my diaper – once again explaining to the new people that I was a bedwetter. She said she didn’t want to be interrupted and pulled my pants down to my knees right in front of everyone. Luckily it was still just the ladies and no younger people, but it was still very humiliating. Instead of standing in the corner this time, she put me to work collecting bibles from the pews and stacking them in the closet.

After nearly six months without my mom, she was finally well enough to come home. Grandma stayed for another two weeks to make sure Mom was back up to speed. When Mom found out about the diapers, she was really upset at first, but after a long talk with Grandma she calmed down and let her keep up the diapering while she recovered. I still remember Mom shaking her head in disbelief the first time Grandma dragged me into the dining room in a wet diaper to mark it on the ‘bedwetter calendar’.

Grandma left behind three big boxes of diapers as a ‘suggestion’ to my mother for dealing with a bedwetter, even commenting that it would be a waste not to use them. Even though she didn’t like the idea of punishing me for bedwetting, she did like that it was easier than washing bedding every day. She wasn’t about to diaper me herself though and asked me if I would keep using them, promising I wouldn’t be punished if I woke up wet. I didn’t want to lose the diapers, so I agreed – although I acted like it was a big deal.

Well, that is how my fetish started. I will be turning 50 in a few months and still think back fondly on grandma’s methods. I wear diapers to bed every night and as often as I can during the day, so I’m not sure if I’m still a legitimate bedwetter or if I’m just used to it. I hope to read many more bedwetter stories in the future. Keep up the great work! 🙂

Yours, Mason the Bedwetter

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  1. Thank you for sharing. I wore diapers to bed for wetting until I was 14. Only wore diapers during the day when we went on road trips, because I always fell asleep in the car or asked for bathroom breaks every hour.

  2. Great story. I was also a bedwetter, but never had to wear diapers during the day. I wanted to but I was too chicken to find a reason for it.

  3. I grew up in an extended family type of thing – Grandma, Mom, my four aunts, my uncle and eleven kids. Grandma was the matriarch of the family and her word was law. Mostly because she owned the property where we all lived. She was mostly very pleasant, but she was strict about certain things – like cursing, lying or picking on others. She would occasionally wash our mouths out with soap or make us write lines, but most punishments were just a good old fashioned thrashing with a leather strap.

    Any time someone earned a beating, we knew the drill.

    You had to bend over the side of the table and remain perfectly still. If you physically interfered with the beating in any way, you would get a repeat performance the following day. This has been known to continue for as long as a week for a couple of my cousins.

    If you cried, you were deemed a crybaby and she would put you in “baby pants” afterwards. This was a big cloth diaper she would put over your clothes and make you sit on a stool in the middle of the family room with your thumb in your mouth for an hour.

    The worst infraction only happened three times that I recall. Once for me and twice for my cousin Mary. If you lost control of your bladder during a beating, she would drag you off to your room and put you in diapers proper – complete with rubber pants.

    For me, it only happened because I desperately had to pee when I got off the school bus, but my teacher had called to explain that I was missing several homework assignments. Halfway through the beating, I lost control and pissed my pants. The wet pants only made the thrashing hurt worse and I was bawling by the time it was over.

    In response, she stripped me from the waist down and put me in a thick cloth diaper and plastic pants. I had to wear it until I finished all of my missing homework assignments and finished my chores. Since I had only peed a little bit during the beating, I still had a mostly full bladder and ended up wetting the diaper before I was done. For that, Grandma made me wear the wet diaper to bed.

    My cousin Mary, on the other hand, always had a bit of trouble with her bladder. She would pee a little bit every time she laughed real hard, but Grandma insisted that was normal and we weren’t allowed to even mention it. Generally, she was a very well behaved and I can only remember her being punished a handful of a times.

    The first time she wet herself during a spanking, Grandma did the same as she did to me. Put her in a diaper and made her wear it until she finished her chores. It was removed before bed though.

    The second time, she really drenched her pants and left a puddle on the floor. After she was diapered, she had to clean the entire floor in addition to the rest of her chores. By the time she finished, the diaper was soaking wet so Grandma changed her into a clean diaper for bed. In the morning, her diaper was once again soaking wet and she was changed into another clean diaper.

    I think she was kept in diapers for about four days before Grandma decided that she must be having a medical issue and took her to the doctor. The doctor said she didn’t have any issues that needed treatment, but it was normal for girls her age to need to pee often. Her diaper punishment ended that day.

    After I moved into the city at twenty, I heard that my youngest cousin was diaper punished for two straight weeks. He was caught stealing a computer game from the school and pissed himself during his first beating. He was promised a daily beating the entirety of his suspension from school and she decided to keep him in diapers the entire time.

    I wasn’t there for that, but I would have liked to be. “Grandma’s Method”, as you call it, was definitely instrumental in creating my ABDL side.

    1. sorry but I find that hard to belive. how come she didn’t end up in jail that’s abuse. a lot of people hav ebeen arrested for diaper punishing there kids..

      1. I’m going to assume DaveyB is probably a bit older. 50+ maybe? It was common for those types of punishments to be administered and were downright acceptable up through the 80s.

        Hell, I grew up in the late 70s and 80s, and spankings were very common. I was teased by my dad constantly for wetting the bed. He would call me “baby boy” whenever he saw me after my mom diapered me for bed.

  4. I was a bedwetter until I was sixteen. My mom was always strung out and drunk, so I had a plastic sheet on my bed and would wash my sheets if I had an accident.

    When things got bad with my mom, I went to live with my grandma. It was like night and day going from a house where I had to take care of everything myself at thirteen to being taken care of by my strict but loving grandmother.

    When she found out about my bedwetting, she asked her friends for options. They suggested pull-ups, which was something she had never heard of. She decided against that, because grandma was an aging hippie and wasn’t fond of wasteful products that weren’t biodegradable. Instead, she opted to have her friend help her sew up some cloth diapers and rubber pants.

    I refused to wear them at first, but she promised me nobody would know and it would be a lot easier than washing sheets everyday. The most humiliating part, however, was when I couldn’t get the pins to work right and the diaper just slid off my hips, which led to grandma pinning the diapers on me herself.

    After that, until I stopped wetting at sixteen, she would come to my room at night and I would get the diaper in place while she turned her back. Once my junk was covered, she would turn around and pin the diaper up tight and help me get the tight rubber pants over it.

  5. My grandmother made me wear diapers for wetting too. She just bought the cheap store brand pullups at first but started buying depends when I outgrew those. My mom didn’t think it was appropriate at first but she always did what grandma told her.

  6. MrWashington,

    I wrote a letter about my own diaper punishment at the hands of my grandmother that was never published. Just curious if you got it or were planning to post it?

    Regards, Tommy

    1. I have just been very busy due to the holidays. Submissions won’t be posted until I’ve read them and make sure they are appropriate. What I have read looks good, so I would expect it to be posted in the next few days.

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